


For Those in the Know

by notthelasttime



Series: Bad Moon Rising [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthelasttime/pseuds/notthelasttime
Summary: The thing about secrets is that the more people that know the more dangerous they become.Ignis has a secret. A snarling feral secret with claws and fur and very sharp teeth, one that he's done his best to keep quiet.And now Prompto knows too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL it's officially fall you know what that means?  
> werewolves are back in my brain that's what it means
> 
> this is a continuation of sorts from where [Like the Wolf](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10220117/chapters/22678853) left off so I'd recommend starting there since idk how well this is gonna stand on it's own

Regis knew.

Had known since Ignis, 9 years old and still bloody and shaking had been thrown at the King's feet by his Uncle who snarled, "Do with him what you will."

His Uncle, the first to know, who had caught Ignis trying to sneak potions that they kept for emergencies out of the medicine cabinet, yelling _where have you been?_  when he heard the creaking floorboards as Ignis slipped through the back door and went upstairs, anger morphing into panic when he saw the blood - and there had been a _lot_ of blood. But panic didn't stick around much longer than anger had, not when he saw the source of the bleeding.

Only one thing inside the city walls left a mark like that.

He'd let Ignis have his potion at least, before dragging him in front of the King in a private audience. The wound would have healed if left alone, a curse can't spread if every bite left its host dead, but it was a slow and nasty process, never mending quite right. The potion stopped the bleeding, even if it didn't take away the pain, everything still sore and tender and when his body moved and made the skin pull and stretch it felt like his side was about to split open again. That was what they couldn't force, not with magic or science, and Ignis was stuck with a fiery pain on his side until the next full moon, when his body ripped apart and put itself back together again. The first time saw the most improvement, but it still wasn't completely healed after that. Subsequent transformations dulled the pain to an ache, until eventually all he was left with was rough skin and an ugly scar that saw the occasional muted throb when it rained. 

King Regis was kinder than he had any right to be. 

Perhaps it was because of his own son, not so far apart in age from Ignis, the boys already so attached to each other, that Regis had to wonder _what if it had been him_. Ignis was not stupid enough, even so young, to believe that he couldn't be replaced. He had been expecting a death sentence, young dramatic mind picturing a public execution. Or exile, at the very least. Everyone knew what they did to wolves in Lucis, the treacherous things that hunted in the night, that needed to be exterminated, and Ignis did not think he would be the exception to this rule. Stamp out the seed before it had a chance to grow. They'd already had him captured. It would be so easy for him to just... disappear.  

Instead Regis had excused his uncle before he helped Ignis up off the ground and called the Citadel doctor, stayed by his side while they examined him. The doctor gave him a bottle full of pills and strict instructions and Ignis listened like his life depended on it - because maybe, maybe it did. 

Had Ignis not already been thoroughly devoted to the crown, loyal through and through, that would have pushed him there. He swelled with the belief that Regis trusted him so much he believed Ignis could still rise to the task and perform his duties as Royal Chamberlain, even with this new affliction. He believed Regis cared for him, he remembered mercy.

It wasn't until years later, drained and miserable after another full moon, trying to pick himself off the floor, knowing he _could not_ be absent from the Citadel the following morning, knowing there were people that suspected, did he think of something else. That maybe this was all just blackmail. A convenient excuse for a future in which Ignis failed to perform his duties, a way to eliminate him on the spot with no argument. The King was a smart man, smart enough to know that all the legends turned sensationalized rumors couldn't be true, and he had to know that Ignis possessed self control in excess. He wouldn't have kept Ignis around if he thought he would be a danger to his son, true enough, but maybe it hadn't all been kindness and mercy that moved him. It was the kind of thought that only came to him when he was exhausted, teetering on the edge of breaking, but once it was there it was hard to push away again. 

He couldn't blame his Uncle for how he'd reacted, and any bitterness had long since faded, though their relationship was never the same, not when he looked at Ignis with nothing but suspicion. His Uncle wasn't to blame for his beliefs, not when they were the result of a panic induced spread of fear and misinformation. For a while it had hurt, but that had long since faded too. Like his scar, nothing more than a dull ache. 

 

 

 

 

Gladiolus knew.

Ignis was 16 and _oh so careful_.

He didn't need anyone to tell him what was at stake if the wrong people found out. It was something he'd known from the moment he'd been bitten, something always on his mind. 16 is difficult enough without the added pressure of taking care of a Prince, rapidly becoming a teenager himself and with the surly moods to match, without his advanced classes on top of council meetings on top of cooking and cleaning and now defense training too. He cut back on sleep and refused to be anything less than perfect. 

He sprang up what felt like 3 feet overnight, lanky body finally gaining some muscle, baby fat falling from his face. The acne covering his cheeks made him more angry than anything because it gave away his age and Council members already thought he was inexperienced and naive, looking for any way to discredit his advice, not believing what he said no matter how hard he worked or how high is IQ. And they didn't even know the secret. 

The secret that was making his transition into adulthood more difficult than it had to be. And that made him angry too. 

Mood swings he understood, from dealing with Noct, if nothing else, but when it was happening to himself and he couldn't _stop_ it he wanted to scream. He'd never had a temper and now it felt like all he did was try to keep his anger under control when the full moon rolled around again. But if there was one thing Ignis knew about it was control, and no matter how frustrated, how livid he felt he kept it all stopped up when he was around other people, refusing to take it out on anyone else, always especially careful around the Prince.

There was more to it though. A sudden hormonal spike that made him spend an embarrassing amount of time jerking off and that made him angry too. Angry because it was always got worse once a month, confirming his suspicions that this wasn't just puberty, and he was _tired_ of this fucking curse messing with every fucking aspect of his fucking life. It made him angry because that hungry desire he felt held a disgusting reminder about what was to come. The feeling of being turned on and so hard it hurt, when he was on the cusp of it, the maddening frustration before he could do anything about it... it was too similar to that feeling right before he changed. The pent up frustration like he just might snap, heart beating too fast, like he wanted to run 8 miles at top speed or rip out his hair or walk out into the middle of the street and start screaming. Like being hungry for something and not knowing what, but magnified to an infuriating degree. He learned to keep it in check with time and age, and sometimes casual encounters helped, but that was something he couldn't risk very often either. A sudden insatiable appetite for sex that coincided with the cycle of the moon would be a bit hard to excuse away, always in dark rooms or half dressed and weary of wandering hands on skin, and Ignis figured he could take care of it himself just as easily, even if he lamented the absence of touch, of contact with another. 

His training at least help get out some of the frustration, the pent up anger.  

Gladio seemed like he understood, probably blaming it all on the excessive amount of work Ignis had been given, because that alone would be enough to make anyone want to break. They sparred together whenever they had the chance, usually late in the day when both of their other respective responsibilities had been taken care of. Ignis would roll his eyes every time Gladio looked for an excuse to take off his shirt, and he let his exasperation cover up the fact that it was all just a reminder that he had to be careful, ever cautious and careful. 

He _had_ been careful. Careful for 7 years, but he should have known that no matter what he could never be perfect, and all it took was a little slip.

He thought he was alone in the locker room when he started changing. 

The sharp gasp behind him when he took off his shirt told him he wasn't. 

Gladio never could hide his emotions, and when Ignis looked back over his shoulder it was hard not to see the disgust. 

 _Is Noct even safe with you?_ he'd spat when he finally found his tongue, and humiliation could now be added to his long list of turbulent emotions. 

He ran out. Couldn't get out of the locker room fast enough, couldn't set his brain in motion long enough to try and talk to Gladio, explain it to him, make him promise he wouldn't tell anyone else and he spent the rest of the night on the verge of tears fairly certain his life was about to be ruined after so much hard work. What would he be without Noct? Without his duty, his title? His job was everything he had, and all it took was a stupid moment, a lapse of perceptiveness and he'd just destroyed his own life.

Except he hadn't. He went to work the next morning wondering what Noct would say but Noct said nothing, he went to the Citadel expecting someone to stop him, or the King to request to speak to him, but there was nothing. Life marched on. 

Gladio came to his house, banging on the door late at night and apologized, looking miserable. It took him 3 days but he did apologize, stammering, _what was I supposed to think?_ and _You're my best friend... I was mad. I was mad because you didn't tell me,_  like it would have been that easy. Ignis forgave him though, quickly and without a second thought. But he couldn't pretend it didn't hurt. 

He wouldn't have liked to have said that it never affected their friendship after that, and maybe there hadn't been a noticeable change but...

Sometimes he saw it. Gladio, who never said what he didn't mean and never beat around the bush looked at Ignis sometimes like he was holding something back, maybe tripping over words and biting back questions. Any other topic, no matter how touchy or embarrassing, and Gladio would blurt out exactly what he was thinking when he was thinking it, but not this. Now there was caution, hesitation, like he didn't quite know where to start with it all. Maybe he thought he was doing it for Ignis's sake, thought he wouldn't want to talk about it. But Ignis had years and years of pent up thoughts and emotions and secrets upon secrets, and sometimes he wanted to just grab Gladio and shake him and yell _say it, just say it. You know what I am, you know what happens to me just ask me about it_. 

Ignis thought, not for the first time, sometimes it's better if people just didn't know. 

 

  

And now... now Prompto knew too. 


	2. Chapter 2

If he thought about something, if he found something to focus on it helped. 

He could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the other room, the far away sounds of traffic from out the open window. His shoulder was crunched uncomfortably beneath him as he was laying on his side, and that was something else to think about too, just like his uneven breaths and damp skin or the way he couldn't get his body to stop shaking. Something physical. Something real and tangible, not like the warped thoughts in his mind that he was doing his best to ignore. They were something he couldn't just will away, digging their claws in deep when he tried, so he found something else to think about instead.

At some point Ignis had managed to crawl over to the bed and tug the blanket down over himself. Standing was out of the question, as was actually getting up onto the bed himself, not when his legs were still quivering and the world felt off kilter like he was looking at everything upside down and backwards. He was all left feet and twisted joints, feeling like a stranger in his own uncoordinated body. Dragging himself across the floor was hard enough, and he'd exhausted what little energy he still had doing it, but he was so _cold_. And trying not to think about how he'd gotten so used to a warm body being there afterwards. 

Prompto wasn't there. 

That was ok. It was ok. He'd done this before. Done it for years, once a month, every month, and he'd managed. 

It had been all too easy to fall into it after the last couple of months, the idea of someone being there after, but he had to have known it couldn't be always, couldn't be forever. It was a lot to ask of another, and Ignis knew it wasn't a pretty sight, not an easy thing to be privy to. Besides, Prompto had his own life, one he shouldn't have to schedule around the pull of the moon, not like Ignis did. He curled in on himself and bit his bottom lip so hard it bled, and that was something else to focus on too. 

He concentrated on the taste of blood, the heaviness of his limbs, and not the thoughts still clinging on to him, the things the infection in his body wanted him to do. 

Time slowly plodded on. He thought he might sleep, a welcome relief, something to give in to.

Somewhere very very far away he heard the door open, followed by footsteps, getting louder.

"Shit.... _shit_..."

 _Prompto_. 

He felt the draft of cold air when Prompto lifted the edge of the blanket, felt a body lay down next to him, felt arms wrap around him with no hesitation and tug him close, hold him tight. Felt, but didn't see because as much as he tried he couldn't seem to get his eyes to stay open, couldn't get his mouth working to say something when he heard blurred apologies from Prompto, sounding miserable as he whispered them next to Ignis's ear, where he felt hot breath on his skin. Prompto was rambling, a habit that kicked in when he was tense, and Ignis only managed to catch a word or two for every 10. And soon the words were broken by kisses, soft and pressed to the top of his head, his temples, whatever parts of him Prompto could get at, that wasn't being buried against his chest.

The two of them, under in a blanket, on the floor, and Ignis heard how fast Prompto's heart was beating, quick and light like a rabbit, and he wanted to say that it was ok now, wanted to tell him not to worry. Prompto was always _worrying_ , and if Ignis could take that from him, he would. He felt warm, wrapped up in the cadence of that heartbeat.

Ignis dreamed. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

9 years old and _stupid, stupid stupid_.  

The dead of winter and the sky was stained black even before it could well and truly be considered night. An evening crisp enough for Ignis to see his breath puff out in clouds, feeling cold even well bundled in his winter clothes. He was running late. So young his only responsibilities amounted to babysitting Noct and focusing on his own schooling, but with his future what it was he was always pushed hard, no matter his age. He had to be better - he had to be the best. 

9 years old and too smart for his own good. 

Ignis had been given private quarters at the Citadel, but throughout his childhood he lived with his Uncle, only a short walk away in an old neighborhood full of maple trees and brick townhouses. He should have just stayed the night. If anyone had seen him leave they would have tried to stop him, but he was still a child, afforded a certain measure of invisibility from adults, particularly in a place like the Citadel. He felt like an adult already, felt like he knew how to take care of himself. No imaginary threat of wolves was going to stop him.

Ignis knew it was all propaganda. Maybe not in the same word, but he saw the lies for what they were, saw that it made people scared and irrational. Well _Ignis_ wasn't irrational, and he wasn't scared of fairytales. He looked up the statistics and he knew he was more likely to get hit by a car that he was to get bitten by a wolf and he was tired and cold and he just wanted to go _home_. 

7th Street bled into Cumberland, a wide avenue with a median running though the center, ill taken care of this time of year with lumbering trees and patches of dead grass dotting the areas between wooden benches. Farther down there was a fountain, and Ignis liked walking down the middle path. A pretty little slice of nature in the summer and fall, and at night it made for a pocket of shadows. Ignis liked it that way, hidden from passing cars. Ignis wasn't afraid of the dark. 

They were so quiet Ignis didn't hear them until it was too late. The scuffing sounding on the sidewalk and a growl and it came at him through the air with an open mouth, jaws wide. He couldn't have screamed or called for help if he wanted to, not when the air was knocked out of his lungs and he hit the ground hard, sending his glasses flying. Teeth ripped through his jacket like nothing, made it to the tender flesh underneath like nothing and he was thrown around like a rag doll, didn't know which way was up only felt it when he hit the ground again. 

The thing would have ripped him to shreds if it hadn't been scared off by the appearance of another wolf, probably what had been chasing it in the first place before it ran into Ignis.

A freak accident. He had been in the way when someone that couldn't quell the rage had crossed his path. Nothing more, nothing less. A product of bad timing and his own stupidity. Something to agonize over for the next few years. 

From his place lying on the ground he watched the sideways world as the wolves ran off, fluffy down from his destroyed coat floating around him like snow. Some of it was stained red. 

Already he knew. Shock kept the pain and bay just enough to keep him thinking and he was trying to figure out how he was going to hide it from his Uncle. Throw away the bloody clothes and heal it with a potion and maybe he would be ok. Only nobody could ever know.

He had to crawl the rest of the way home. 

 

  

* * *

 

 

He knew Prompto was there with him before he opened his eyes or any of the memories from the night before could come back.

It was the smell of him. There always seemed to be the distinct lingering smell of soap on his skin, something basic and clean that probably came in a pack of plain white bars. Not overly masculine like Gladio, or fruity like Noct, not lemongrass and mint like his own. Ignis breathed it in deep from where his face was tucked into the space between Prompto's neck and shoulder and it smelled like comfort, like home. 

He was stiff and sore, enough to be agitating, not just the toll on his body from the moon, but the awkward angle which he had fallen asleep on the floor. He'd be lucky to have a full range of motion in his neck. He was dehydrated, rough throat and swollen tongue, but he didn't want to get up yet. Not just yet. 

Prompto's arms were still around him, gone slack with sleep. They were all tangled up in each other and Ignis could feel his belt buckle, the zippers and buttons on his jacket pressing into his skin. Usually Prompto had shed some of his clothes as well at this point, putting them on more equal footing. He seemed to have been in a bit of a hurry last night.

"Didn't think you'd be up this early." Prompto's voice was groggy. Ignis hadn't even felt him stir. 

It took him three tries to speak, and the words came out as a croak, "What time is it?"

He felt Prompto move over him, but Ignis still couldn't get a good look at his face, "Uhh, not sure. Can't see your clock from down here."

"I have to get up," he said, but as he tried to move those arms were tightening around him again, finger tips with the nails bitten down short were digging into his back.

" _Wait_ ," Prompto said, "wait, just.. hang on a second, I uh... Iggy please don't be mad."

" _What?_ " It was hard to try and sound stern when his throat was barely working, but he went very still, preparing for a blow because when someone asked him not to get mad it was usually because they'd done something that was worth getting mad about. He felt Prompto's fingers twitching.

"I may have uh, asked Noct to give you the day off."

Ignis went tense and immediately Prompto was pushing him back just enough so he could look him in the eye, " _Wait_ , wait, he doesn't know, okay? I promise I didn't tell him anything, _I wouldn't_. When I was over there last night I may have just... mentioned that you looked a little tired lately. That Noct could survive without you for a day and you could use a break. That's all, okay? He sent you a text about it, you probably haven't seen it yet. I don't know if you still have stuff at the Citadel today, I don't think Noct got you out of that... Is the Citadel open on Saturdays?"

Prompto was far too earnest to be lying. He was nervous though, probably about Ignis being upset with him, but he was refusing to break eye contact like he was trying to convey his sincerity. 

"I'm sorry I was so late last night," that misery was back in his voice, "I didn't wanna make Noct think something was up, you know? But he was all excited about the new Assassin's Creed coming out and if I dipped too soon it would have been weird. I wanted to make up for it."

"I can't get into the habit of doing this sort of thing," Ignis said when he found his voice, one part grateful because he felt like a wreck, one part surging with affection for Prompto, afraid because of it. He kept trying to find the catch, figure out where things were going to go wrong. 

"Are you mad?"

"No... I don't know. I'm too tired." It was the truth. Someone manipulating his schedule behind his back would normally be the kind of thing to get him worked up, but it was _Prompto_. Prompto meant well. Prompto was careful. And he _was_ too tired to be feeling much emotional depth about anything at the moment. Maybe anger would come later. Then again, maybe it wouldn't. 

Prompto had to help get him off the ground, keep him steady while he climbed into bed like some kind of feeble old man. There wasn't much room for modesty, and judging by the vibrant shade of crimson Prompto's face had turned Ignis could guess he had gotten an eyeful of... well, something. He figured he could be embarrassed about it later, as he usually was, not feeling well enough to care much about it at the moment. And he was covered by a blanket again soon enough anyway. 

Prompto brought him water without him even having to ask and he drank like a man dying of thirst, half expecting his stomach to start cramping when he did. It had been a rough night. Some months were better than others, and this one had been difficult. Prompto sat on the covers next to him, close but not touching, looking like he wanted to say something but holding back. 

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked, uncertain, "I can go, if you-"

" _Stay_." The word was out of his mouth before he even let himself think about it, and Prompto leaned in and kissed him so fast, Prompto probably didn't give himself a chance to think about that either. It was a short kiss, but Ignis thought he knew what it meant all the same, and he brought Prompto down with him when he laid back on the bed. 

Eyes closed already, he felt a hand running through his hair, massaging his scalp, relaxing him again. There was a pause when Prompto pulled away, shedding clothes from the sound of it before crawling back under the covers. Ignis barely stirred, only leaned into his body heat when it was back next to him, breathing deep.

And as he was drifting off he heard Prompto whisper. 

 _I have a secret too_ , he said.

 _Maybe one day I'll be brave enough to tell you_. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~tbh i'm a liar because prompto most likely also uses fruity soap like noct. together they probably smell like a goddamn fruit salad. OR or prompto has some super sweet cupcake smelling bullshit. gladio gives him a hard time like hmpf that's the kind of bullshit iris uses and prompto's like sorry you insist on smelling like xtreme arctic pine and don't know how to have fun~~  
>   
> 
> thank god the assassin's fest made assassin's creed existing in eos canon because now i never have to make up a dumb video game title lmao
> 
> kind of a short chapter but it made sense for me to cut it here. more on the development of their relationship in ch 3 and heads up i will probably need to update the tags for it so keep an eye out


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first full moon of the year is called the wolf moon .. f y i

The first time Ignis came back into a human body after the full moon he proceeded to violently throw up all over himself. 

It was one part pain, one part revulsion, seeing his body from the inside out, feeling the how it bent and twisted in all the wrong ways. All through his childhood Ignis had been told that boys don't cry, when he fell and scraped his knees, when the other kids were picking on him and his eyes started filling with tears. _Chin up Ignis, boys don't cry_. Some misguided attempt at making him more mature than his years for the sake of taking care of the Prince, to keep him from being a blubbering child. Well Ignis curled up in a puddle of his own vomit feeling like death warmed over and he cried for the rest of the night and thought whoever wanted to tell him to stop could go kick rocks. 

He was out sick the next day, one of the only times he ever was, and even then he felt guilty. Both the King and the doctor at the Citadel had stressed the importance of his behavior around the full moon and how he had to be careful not to ever let it show, but after that first night he could barely hold himself upright the next morning. He was in no condition to sit through lessons or look after Noct, and yet being stuck in bed all day felt even worse. He was not good at being useless. Time taught him how to keep from being paranoid, how to sift through well meaning concern to single out suspicion, but at the time it felt like everyone would look at him and _know_. Ignis never lingered on thoughts of the consequences of that for too long. Some things were better left out of the imagination. 

 

 

 

 

The first month spent in his brand new apartment outside of the Citadel, Ignis used his newfound privacy to try and lock himself in. He barricaded the doors and shut the windows feeling like it was smarter, safer if he wasn't out on the street. The people wouldn't be at his mercy, and he wasn't at the mercy of the other wolves. Better to keep himself contained and minimize the risk. Quarantined. Like a virus. 

He ripped the inside of his room to shreds and couldn't believe none of his neighbors hadn't called the police from all the noise. 

Saying it was a mistake would be an understatement. Whatever uncontrolled rage coursed through him had been magnified tenfold, and most of the night had passed in an agonizing blur, not thoughts in his head but impulse. Something far more dangerous. The rage was always there, waiting for him in that other body, and it always hit him like a shock of cold water splashed on his face. He had learned to keep it level, make it background noise, something he didn't have to act on, but not that night. That night scared him with the forced of it. He could have done something he would have regret, easily, with no hesitation, and there was a sick feeling at the thought that suddenly he could empathize with the wolves that liked to _bite_. As it was Ignis was lucky he didn't seriously hurt himself, ramming into walls and destroying furniture. What wasn't covered in claw marks was covered in bite marks, a mess it took him weeks to clean up, and he wound up having to move his bed to cover a chunk he'd clawed out of the wall. 

To top it all off he felt terrible the next morning, exhaustion that ran deep, a headache he couldn't shake that left his head foggy. Food should have helped but instead it just made him nauseous, sleep should have helped but he still felt worn down days later. It was like he had a hangover, one he couldn't shake and that lasted the better part of the next month. Ignis hated that he felt it the night of the new moon, that he only started feeling better as it grew brighter in the sky.  

It wasn't just containment he'd realized afterwards, too much time spent on puzzling his way through his body's reaction. At that point he'd read and researched everything he could get his hands on, knew all there was to know that could be learned from someone else, but it was all written from the perspective of outsiders. Some of it true, some of it not, but there was no one to talk to and nothing to read from someone who felt it first hand and some things he would have to figure out for himself. 

He hadn't seen the moon that night. Hadn't been under the sky. 

It felt disgustingly poetic, an idea of fancy instead of practicality but it also felt true. Not just that the beast didn't like to be caged, but the underlying current, that connection with the moon had been resisted and his body turned on him for it.

Ignis was sure that was the cause of it, even more so when the next month hit and he was under the open sky, hardly making a noise while he ran down deserted streets and let himself be free, loosening his grip before finally letting go entirely of that thing he constantly clung to - _control_. His waking life was made of calculated movements, for the Kingdom, the Prince, how best to serve and of course, how to keep his own secret safe. There was not freedom to be found there, even if it was a life he wouldn't change for anything, would never stop serving Noctis. It was still a life controlled. But for one night a month things could be different. Nothing more than a wolf chasing smells, a form of muscle and strength so different from his own, heightened senses to get him lost in the city, from the sharp smell of rain in the distance, the sound of wind in the trees, the feeling of it in his fur. For the first time he felt like maybe this didn't all have to be bad, not when it could be a sweet release of tension. It was something beautiful in a tainted life and Ignis chose to cling to it because his only other choice was resentment, and that was something that had too many ways of wearing a man down. 

Three months later he watched a woman get mauled down at the south end of the docks and he felt that old familiar bitterness set back it. 

She lived, he'd confirmed it the next day while looking through incident reports at the Citadel.

The wolf lived too. Even after Ignis had chased him down and put his own teeth and rage to good use. 

 

 

 

 

The first time Prompto was there afterwards Ignis was sure he was dreaming, hallucinating. Finally, he thought, he was close enough to the brink of breaking that his mind snapped, made something up to help take the pain away, and of course of all the things it could have manifested, it would be Prompto. 

Kind and steady, all warmth and understanding. Of the choices of people for him to cling on to, of course it would be Prompto. 

It wasn't until the following morning when he'd realized it wasn't all just a dream did he start to panic. 

It had been a very long time since Ignis had to deal with the fallout of someone else knowing the truth, and it was difficult not to jump to conclusions and assume the worst. That was his job after all, a skill set ingrained in him from an early age to plan for the worst case scenario _just in case_. 

The worst would be for Prompto to say something to Noct. They were close, he might presume that Noctis already knew. As far as Ignis could tell the best would be that Prompto would agree not to say anything and the two of them would stop speaking and Ignis would make himself scarce to minimize disgust or mistrust. 

What he did not expect was for Prompto to seek him out, again and again. That was not something he had planned for. 

When it came to Prompto, he without a map and lost at sea.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

They were not in a relationship.

It was something Ignis had to keep reminding himself with increasing frequency because as much that had happened between them, they had not done anything to establish themselves as a couple. At least, Ignis didn't think so. It was a lot harder to distinguish the meaning behind their interactions when there was that underlying current of the secret running through them all. Spending the night undressed and wrapped in someone's arms seemed pretty romantic until you looked at the context of it, the reason it happened. They had kissed. That wasn't a commitment, at least it wasn't to some people, but Ignis didn't know. Ignis didn't _date_.

Things were complicated enough as it was and that was before they'd started fucking.  

A few months made a habit. A tumultuous pause in their relationship found them on the other side of things with an unspoken understanding. Ignis went missing for a night, and Prompto was there afterwards. Then things started shifting. 

Two nights before the full moon and Prompto had shown up, knocking on his door and going on about now Noct had fallen asleep while he was over there, and he didn't really want to go home even if it was getting kind of late and did Ignis mind if he stayed here a while? Chattering. He was nervous.

Ignis let him stay. 

He was going to be up late summarizing reports for Noctis anyway and he didn't mind Prompto's company. Not when he calmed a bit and stopped running his mouth, not when he poked around Ignis's apartment while he went back to his reports and definitely not when Prompto came to sit down next to him on the couch, far too close. He didn't mind when Prompto leaned against him while he worked. He didn't mind when he felt lips on his neck. 

They started forming new habits. 

Prompto would show up the few nights prior to the full moon, and if he had become as well informed on the matter as Ignis suspected, then he knew that was right around the time Ignis started feeling the pull of things, when it started becoming intense. When he started to crave contact. There was always some casual excuse, some reason why he just happened to be around both of them ignoring how convenient the timing was, pretending it wasn't deliberate, just like they pretended it wasn't deliberate how Prompto always got to close, how they always wound up kissing.

It was... innocent enough. At first. A few nights spent making out on his couch like they were still teenagers, Ignis lost in the indulgence of it, that touch to keep him grounded, keep him human. Lust was there, lust was always, always there, but he would not make the first move. Not when he knew that his desires were compromised by something _else_ and that he didn't know what Prompto wanted or why he was even doing this. 

Prompto was not a pushover. It was a disservice to the strength of his character to imply that he was and Ignis had heard him stand up for himself without backing down on more than one occasion. Perhaps he didn't like confrontation, avoided it where he could but he was not one to lay down and take things he didn't agree with or didn't want either.

 _But_. He was a people pleaser. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for someone else, someone he felt some loyalty to. It was best not to dwell on it, but there was always that lingering doubt that his motivations were based on what he thought was best to help. 

In the end, Ignis was weak. 

They were in his bed, half dressed and kissing each other until they couldn't breath and Prompto, sitting on his lap, rocking his hips in a way that had to be calculated to illicit a response. This was where they kept winding up, pushing the boundaries of how far they would go until they both backed down, hard, dazed, and drawing the line. Turning kisses chaste, calming down until they both could sleep. But then Prompto wasn't stopping. He kissed Ignis deep, looking sincere, determined before muttering curses and dipping under Ignis's waistband. 

His hand was warm, the rhythm he fell into steady, and Ignis was weak and he closed his eyes and held Prompto close, and moaned his name when he came, too quick it was all over too quick. Too much pent up sexual frustration, too long since he'd been with anyone else. Prompto let him be still for a few moments afterwards, but in the time it took Prompto to get up a grab tissues to wipe his hand off, Ignis was already getting hard again.

Prompto laughed when he saw, "Was I really that good, or is that a wolf thing?" He'd asked and then immediately shot Ignis a looked filled with veiled panic, like he didn't know if Ignis would take offense or if he shouldn't acknowledge those kinds of things out loud. Ignis pulled him back onto his lap and kissed him. 

"Why don't we try to find out."

Prompto got him off three more times that night, twice with his hand, once with his mouth, and Ignis was quick to return the favor even if Prompto couldn't bounce back quite as fast. He liked sucking Prompto off, liked seeing his cock hard, tip flushed pink before he took it all in his mouth, and he liked seeing how pink the rest of his body got when he came, and the soft look on his face when he was coming down afterwards. 

Wanting Prompto was nothing knew. He was kind and his heart was too big for his own good and he was handsome in a slightly boyish way that was all the more endearing. He was also the Prince's best friend, his one connection to the world outside the Citadel and Ignis would be damned if he was about to do anything to compromise that, notwithstanding the thousands of other reasons he could not even consider getting into a relationship in the first place. Prompto fell asleep curled against his chest and Ignis tried not to dwell on what this was all supposed to mean.

He didn't dwell on it the next month either, when Prompto had his knees spread, planted on either side of his hips, one hand flat on Ignis's chest, the other reaching back so he could finger himself. Ignis asked him to turn around so he could watch and there was a flash of uncertainty, self consciousness across Prompto's face before he could hide it. But then he looked at Ignis with enough trust to be heartbreaking and leaned in for a kiss before he complied. Ignis put a hand on the outside of his thigh to help hold him steady, had the other stroking his own cock, mouth going dry when Prompto pushed another finger in. He was covered in freckles, even here, dotting his ass cheeks and the backs of his legs, his lower back. He was still wearing his shirt. 

Prompto never talked about it but it was there, in the way he didn't fully undress if the room wasn't dark or they weren't under the covers, the way he tensed if Ignis's hands went to the wrong spot on his waist where he was still a little soft, or how the bands and bracelets on his wrist often changed but never came off, how he didn't like being touched there. 

Ignis didn't know how to tell him. It didn't matter to him. A body could be a cage but it didn't have to be, and unmarked skin didn't have stories to tell. He wouldn't care whether Prompto's stomach was flat or round, it wouldn't change the way he smiled, or how his eyes got bright when he was excited, wouldn't change the quality of his heart and complexity of his mind. 

Ignis had his own lifetime of keeping himself covered up, keeping himself hidden. Not just keeping secrets but the scars too, ugly and repellent and the easiest way to get him found out. No one he'd slept with had seen them. No one else had touched them, just Prompto, only Prompto.

Prompto, legs wrapped tight around his waist and begging for more, Prompto, giddy and laughing after he came, his stomach a mess and flushed, pale skin turning pink too easy, Ignis still deep inside of him. The freckles covering his body. The way his cheeks turned round when he grinned. 

Prompto was the sea and Ignis was drowning.  

 

 

 

 

 

It was pouring rain, cascades falling from the sky, relentless and icy. It was almost pretty, the city lights reflecting drops and lighting puddles, but he was in the wrong body for it.

A massive sandy brown wolf, stalking circles, pelt bristled, mouth curling. Almost time, he could feel it coming, but it had been such a long night and his mind wasn't his own. The rain was a blessing. It kept people inside. It kept them safe.

Almost time. Ignis started to climb.

Prompto was ready, with soft white towels still smelling of detergent, quick to shut the window after Ignis came through. A towel to wrap around his shoulders, one to set on his lap, and then Prompto was drying his hair, sitting close and letting Ignis lean heavy against him, trying to keep him warm. He buried his face in that safe space between Prompto's neck and shoulder and licked his lips.

" _The things I want to do_..." nothing more than a rasp.

To run, and scratch and claw and _bite, and bite and bite_.

Prompto's skin was pale enough to show hints of the spider web of veins just under the skin, soft skin that would tear so easily, but _ah_ , those teeth in his mouth were blunt now, maybe not completely harmless but close enough, and a bite from the wrong mouth wouldn't spread the curse, wouldn't stop the urge. Ignis kept his mouth shut, eyes shut, and breathed in deep instead, searching for the smell of home. 

 _I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to hurt you_. 

Prompto's worry came through without words, thrumming under the surface like a heartbeat while he wrapped his arms tight around Ignis's neck, tried to steady him when he swayed. It was cold, but that wasn't why Ignis was shaking. "It's okay Iggy," words spoken directly into his ear, "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

It was a long night, and a difficult one, but he'd been wrong. Prompto wasn't the sea, he was the lifeboat. 

 

 

 

"Prompto are we... in a relationship?"

"What?" he said it with a little stutter, like he'd been caught off guard. 

The morning brought weak sunlight through a layer of thin clouds but the rain had stopped and that was something at least. His head was his own again but it was pounding and his body ached. But he was going to be okay.

They'd been laying in bed and dozing off and on for the past 20 minutes, but Ignis couldn't get his mind to stay quiet, not knowing where they both stood, not when Prompto had his back resting against his chest again, warm and keeping the beast at bay, a lifeline helping him back to humanity. One of his hands found Prompto's, and he let his thumb run over the back of it. 

"We haven't made any sort of formal commitment and I..." he swallowed hard and felt how Prompto's body had tensed. Still half asleep and exhausted and now's the time he decided to bring this up. Gods, he was terrible at this. "I don't want you to feel obligated to do any of this."

"You think I've only been coming here out of obligation?" His voice was too tight, too controlled.

"No, I-" he sighed, a frustrated sound and buried his face in Prompto's hair, muffling his voice. "I know why _I_ want you to have been coming here. But I won't put words in your mouth and I know my situation is... difficult. I'm giving you an out, if you want it, because I have to be certain. But I want you to know that I want this. I want you here when I wake up, and I want you with me when I'm falling asleep and not just on the full moon and not just because you can help me through the change. I want _you_."

Prompto laughed, something weak that felt more like it was disguising a sigh of relief or like he was suspiciously close to tears and he said, "Is this your way of asking me out?"

"Yes, I supposed it is. I'm sorry I'm not very good at this."

Prompto laughed again, more genuine this time, but no less choked, "It was never out of obligation. I was always here because I wanted to be. Because I wanted you." He took a breath deep enough that Ignis felt his chest expand, and he let it all out in a shaky exhale, "Give a guy some warning next time, will you?"

"Sorry," he said, pulled Prompto closer, "I didn't mean to catch you so off guard."

Prompto paused. Fingers moved to fidget with the band covering his wrist. "There's... just one thing..."

Ignis forced himself not to tense, kept his fingers running steady over Prompto's hand, slow and comforting. _Anything_ , he thought, knowing now was when he needed to stay silent, let Prompto take his time thinking about the million things this could be about, _anything you want to tell me, it's fine, it's fine_. He kissed the crook of Prompto's neck, and couldn't stop staring at the band fastened tight to his wrist.

Hesitation. Then Prompto spoke.

".... _You_ have to figure out how to tell Noct."

Ignis slumped back into his pillow and groaned. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE WAIT ON THIS i accidentally deleted a bunch of it at one point like a fuckin dipshit and basically lost all motivation for a while. hopefully it was worth the wait..??? ._.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr @ [notthelasttime ](https://notthelasttime.tumblr.com/)


End file.
